Fixed
by Deadbat
Summary: StanxKyle, they are about fifteen or fourteen. Kyle is uncertain about their relationship and Stan is doing his best to talk to him and work things out. Oneshot.


**This is kind of old. Originally posted on my DeviantART (phillipthegreat) on April 28. Probably written a few days before that. StanxKyle, durr. Concrit please. :)**

I stole a glance over at the sullen boy, then made no hesitation in looking back ahead of me. We continued walking--faster now that he was trying to get away from me.

"Please...Kyle..." I pleaded with him. "I'm sorry but...you don't understand..." I realized my words were falling on deaf ears and stopped, only to concentrate on keeping pace with him and planning my next words.

"Bitch," he swore at me. A tear ran down my cheek. He stopped to turn and glare at me, and I almost toppled the both of us when I bumped into him. "What the hell are you crying about?" He pushed me away violently and continued walking.

"Please...I'm so sorry..." I started begging again.

No. Fuck that. I was going to make him listen.

"STOP!" I shouted, and grasped at his shoulder, not trying to stop my nails from digging into his skin.

"Aagh..." he groaned and stopped, but wouldn't look at me.

"You need to LISTEN to me," I said, choking on my words now. "You need...you need to hear how you can improve yourself. Because you've changed, a lot. And I miss the old you."

I let go and started pacing, back and forth, back and forth. I had his attention now.

I sighed and began again. "I know it's been hard for you this past year, or however long it's been. It has been for me, too. I mean, people are so weird around here, that no one really cared when we came out. I mean yeah, there was Cartman, but the crap he was spouting was nothing new."

Kyle chuckled weakly. "Funny that he knew the truth about us so long before we did," he mumbled.

I smiled, because it was almost like things used to be. Being fifteen wasn't so different from being ten.

"See, Kyle? That's the you I wish were still around," I said. "You've been so moody since you've came out, and you've changed tremendously. It's not necessarily in a way people like, either. I mean..." I took a deep breath. This part was harder than I thought it would be. "I love you, I really do, and I always will." I paused to see what his reaction would be, but the only sign of life he gave off was a small twitch and a shake of his green-clad head. I pressed on. "But even I have to admit that you've been really different lately. When we were nine or ten, we could confide in each other so easily. But now that we've started dating, it's like you've put up a wall between us. I held on before, because I love you, and I thought you'd change for the better eventually, but you didn't. And I want that communication we had before back. So if we have to break up for that to happen...do we work it out, or do we break up?"

A shudder ran through him, and he turned back to me. He was crying. "No, Stan," he said coldly, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. I pulled a tissue from my pocket and reached out to wipe his face, but he backed away. I let my arm fall. "If we break up...you KNOW it could never be the same again. Too much has happened now."

My heart skipped a beat, and hope was restored. "So...does that mean you want to fix this?" I waved my hand vaguely to indicate that I was talking about our relationship (because of course, it wasn't obvious enough already).

He sighed and let himself fall. Luckily, there was a park bench behind him, and he sat on that instead of collapsing to the ground. He looked behind himself, surprised.

"I don't know..." He buried his face in his hands. "I DON'T KNOW!" he shouted, though it was so mangled by his tears that you could barely understand him.

I hated seeing him like this. I sat down next to him and wrapped him in my warmth and in my arms, and I let him sit there, crying, for what seemed like an eternity. Looking back now, it was really only a few minutes.

During that eternity, I thought back to what had led up to this. Growing up, we were relatively normal, though we had always shared a very "special" relationship. A month before my fourteenth birthday, though, we were talking, when Kyle leaned over and kissed me out of nowhere. He apologized quickly, but it was that event that helped me realize I was in love with him. We came out the next day and started dating.

Things were awkward at first, but they quickly improved. Kyle, though, became darker and quieter, little by little. I had noticed, but didn't do anything to stop it, assuming he would snap out of it sooner or later. He didn't, and today I had given him an ultimatum--if he didn't stop preaching doom 'n' gloom all the time, I wanted to break up with him. He hadn't taken things--

"Yes."

--so well.

"What?" I whispered.

"Yes, Stan," he repeated. His head was still pressed against my chest, but he was looking up at me now. "I want to fix this. I want to fix US." He wrapped his arms around my middle and kept staring into my eyes. He was still crying, but he smiled at me now. "I want to fix us...because I love you...and I never ever want to lose you..."

I had forgotten how intense his eyes were.

I cupped his face in my hands. "I love you too."

As the moon rose and the sun set, I was pulling his face to meet mine and kissing him, tenderly and then not tender at all, and it WAS eternity that time, it really was...

We slept under the stars in the park that night, and knew that we were fixed.


End file.
